The Preservation of Dignity
by Tramontana
Summary: Lynch is back, and he's made it his personal goal in life to destroy the four men who engineered the demise of his empire. The team must stay one step ahead as Lynch uses the lowest forms of warfare to try to bring them down. On hiatus at this point.
1. Company Man

A/N: Post movie, if that isn't evident yet. I know there have been many sinister-stuff-at-the-VA type stories, but I promise this is going somewhere, and the subject of dignity for those with all types of medical considerations, ailments or otherwise, is important to me. I promise it won't all be doom and gloom, either, as I love the comedy of all four of the guys way too much. Other than that, read, enjoy, and review if you have the chance. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team, etc.

* * *

"Seriously, Murdock, can you turn that down?"

"Sorry, compadre, no can do. Favorite part!" A certain reportedly expert pilot shed one VA hospital-issue slipper and, for lack of a remote control, used his socked foot to reach out and up the ante on the volume. One of the ward maintenance guys, who most the patients knew as simply "Ed," winced as his request was blatantly ignored.

"You know Emerson's liable to freak out," Ed told the pilot from halfway up his ladder, adjusting the wiring of a light fixture. "You've got that thing loud enough for all of Indianapolis to hear it."

"He ain't gonna freak out," Murdock replied with a dismissive wave of one hand. "Emerson loves The Duke." His eyes were still glued to the TV, and Frank glanced down at the screen.

"…the _hell_ I won't!" John Wayne exclaimed, before promptly socking the man opposite him in the face, which sent him tumbling into a giant mud pit. This of course led to a mud pit semi-fight scene of epic proportions. Ed shook his head. It wasn't the first time the movie had been played in the ward, and a few of the other patients were already trying to construct their own version of the infamous mud pit via several furniture cushions. The impromptu project quickly drew Murdock's attention, if only due to some perceived lack of accuracy.

"Wait, wait. That ain't right," Murdock spoke as he sprang to his feet, trotting over to join the fray. "Somebody grab the cushion off that big ol' ugly lounger…" He lifted his eyes to spot said lounger, his gaze crossing a couple windows in the process.

The pilot's eyes suddenly jumped back and squinted. There were a handful of men in suits outside, piling out of a couple of cars that practically screamed, "I'm trying to be covert!." Murdock decided it was either government or…government. He stepped closer to the windows while Emerson and Wilders went after the ugly cushion.

"Jackass brigade," the pilot muttered. His head tilted as he watched the last man get out of the passenger side of one of the cars. "Um…undead jackass brigade…" Murdock stared as Lynch-the original Lynch-paraded toward the main entrance in all his typical self-important splendor. Hannibal had received information shortly after the whole Morrison/plates incident that indicated The Company had given Lynch a dirt nap. In the eight months that followed, nothing had surfaced to suggest otherwise.

Rumors of the man's death had unfortunately been exaggerated.

Murdock watched the suits enter the ward and waited until Lynch spotted him to point and shout.

"Undead jackass!"

Emerson nodded as though he completely understood the situation, giving the pilot a hand as he climbed onto a wobbly footstool. Murdock went on in a pseudo-French accent, even as Lynch , only slightly delayed by a questioning member of the staff, approached him. "'Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelled of elderberries!'"

"Yeah, that's special. Now why don't you come down before your hurt yourself and tell me where the rest of your team is hiding?"

"Attention citizens!" Murdock switched to the Queen's English, still pointing at Lynch. "This man…" he paused for effect, "…is an asshole!"

The statement was followed by a cacophony of snickering, the uncomfortable exchanged glances of Lynch's minions, and a couple chanted repeats of "Asshole!"

"Cute," Lynch responded tersely. He was definitely not amused. In fact, after an inconspicuous glance around the room, Lynch hooked a toe under one leg of the footstool and tipped Murdock right off it. Slightly distracted while trying to work his audience, Murdock stumbled unto a fairly undignified heap, plowing Emerson and Wilders on the way down. The collection of suit-bots that comprised Lynch's minions was apparently keeping the staff busy enough not to notice. Once Murdock made sure his fellow residents weren't any worse for the wear for having been landed on, he rested back on his elbows, grinning up at Lynch.

"Shucks, Lynchy, that's the first time I've been airborne in _weeks_. Thanks for the flight! Gotta work on that take-off, though. Little bit lackin' in the style department."

"Where is the A-Team, Murdock?"

"Well, I reckon they're right before the B-Team and maybe right after the Z-Team, depending on your outlook on life."

Murdock watched (former?) Company Man work his jaw for a moment and managed not to giggle when somebody yelled "Asshole!" again, just once, from across the room. There was a proverbial cricket chirp of almost-silence (the movie was still running) before Lynch finally turned on his heel and walked away.

"First phase of asshole containment is complete!" Murdock stage-whispered to Emerson, plenty loud enough for the subject to hear. Emerson laughed like a kid who'd just shot a spitball while Wilders clapped. Murdock watched Lynch's retreating back as the man made his way to the nurse's station. Although the grin was still in place, he found himself scoping out possible escape routes, reflexively preparing for the eventuality that those papers Lynch was waving around were transport orders.

Chances of escape were oh-so-low, if a visual sweep of the familiar layout was any indication. The room was crowded with patients today, and Lynch had brought an annoying number of robo-jerks with him. The pilot's eyes skipped back to nurse's station when Lynch's body language grew a little more animated. Nurse Jefferson was glancing worriedly his way over the top of Company Man's head. It wasn't exactly an encouraging sign, and the poor woman was looking moderately uncomfortable. Murdock rubbed his nose in an absent gesture of thought and finally sprang to his feet again.

Lynch was likely not expecting the pilot to walk right up beside him, but the nurse saw him coming and clumsily halted in mid sentence.

"It's highly inadvisable, sir," she was saying, "we really need to consult his psychiatrist before -uh…Mr. Murdock, can I help you with something?"

Trying to channel an ounce or two of Faceyness, Murdock leaned over the counter a bit to offer her a sparky, blue-eyed smile. He jabbed a thumb toward Lynch, who was giving the pilot a look he usually reserved for an errant dog.

"Is this big ol' meanie botherin' you, ma'am?"

The nurse's mouth twitched as though she was fighting a smile. "I'm fine, Mr. Murdock, thank you."

"Yes, she's fine," Lynch snapped. "Now run along and go count the pink elephants with the other retards." Nurse Jefferson was not impressed.

Murdock's grin took on a distinctly sharp edge as he turned to lean into Lynch's space. "You really are a monumental asshole, you know that, Lynch?" He made as though to lean away but turned back again, the edge gone as quickly as it had come. "And they aren't _pink_, they're _purple_," he added, emphasizing the p's.

"Guess what. I don't care," was Lynch's snappy come back.

"That's what they _all_ say, until somebody's shorts get eaten," Murdock said gravely.

"Yeah, well, congratulations, you're officially a flight risk." He turned back to the nurse. "I don't need to consult his doctor. This order is signed by a psychiatrist who has thoroughly reviewed his medical history. And until I receive a counter-order, you and yours are breaking federal law if you don't follow these instructions. _Precisely_." He slid the paper across the counter to the nurse with an unnecessary amount of force and gave Murdock a last look. "Enjoy the sedation, Captain Cuckoo."

Murdock knew he was awarding Lynch all kinds of victory, but he couldn't keep his grin from falling flat. _Sedation?_ He stood there while Company Man and the Robo-Jerks departed the ward. Nurse Jefferson offered him a smile, but he could tell it was taking some effort.

"We'll get this all worked out, Mr. Murdock," she told him, reaching for the phone as she logged the information from Lynch's documents into the computer. It was a decidedly non-specific, non-explanatory statement that didn't do a whole lot to set him at ease.

As immediate as Lynch might have wanted the "instructions" to go into effect, the sentence was suspended until the next day, when morning meds were being doled out. After a long night of fixating on the word "sedation," Murdock regarded Nurse Adams with weary eyes and a head full of gravity-defying hair upon being handed his pills.

"What happened to the blue ones?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. He already knew the answer.

"The doctor's changing your regiment," the nurse answered.

"Ain't it supposed to be bad news to switch this stuff around cold turkey?" the pilot went on, fixing the nurse with an entirely lucid stare. _Crazy, not stupid._ The nurse didn't seem to know what to do with his question or that particular look.

"Leave the worrying to the doctors, Mr. Murdock. I know they just want to do what's best for you." Her reassurance was well-meant but canned, and he was betting she didn't know too much about the previous day's escapade. He stared at the little cup that held two non-blue pills.

"Come on, Mr. Murdock," she prompted gently, the unspoken reminder lingering behind her words; things tended to get somewhat unpleasant for all parties concerned when one refused to take meds. Murdock finally reached for the offered cup of water.

_Enjoy the sedation._

He swallowed the pills.

* * *

Where is the rest of the team? Why is Murdock back at the VA? Will Lynch get away with overhauling Murdock's treatment? Find out in the next chapter!

**TBC**


	2. Sedation

A/N: Wanted to make this longer, but I figured posting what I had typed would be nicer...more to come soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own The A-Team, etc.

* * *

"One…two…three…" Murdock lifted his eyes to peek over his shoulder, snorting as he watched Emerson try to pry a lampshade onto his head. One of these days, he'd have to educate the man in some of the more subtle ways to play hide and seek. One of the other patients' feet protruded up from behind a couch, and Wilders kept chanting "Emerson's a lamp!" from somewhere Murdock actually couldn't pinpoint.

With a mental shake of his head, he buried his face in the crook of his arm again. The game was a nice distraction from Tuesday's Lynchisode and all its attached points of consternation, least of which were the new drugs. This fine Thursday morning he'd been feeling sort of unconcentrated, but he wasn't sure whether to chalk it up to meds or plain old anxiety.

The pilot's counting persisted alongside these thoughts and abruptly brought him to a conclusion. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen . . . uh, thirteen…"

_Wait, what?_ He blinked, realizing he hadn't said anything for a moment. "Uh, thirteen…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen . . ."

Muddled lethargy was hanging on him like a lead curtain now. Part of him wanted to panic. _Those meds, those new meds! ...No, I'm just tired, that's all._ "Eight-eighteen…" he shook his head, which really wasn't a great idea. The floor and even the wall he was leaning against were both starting to feel tilty. He wondered distantly if he should stop counting; it seemed to be making things worse. Then he gave a start when he realized he was on his hands and knees squinting at the floor tiles. When had that happened?

_What was I doing?_

He blinked, and all at once a nurse was there in front of him, her sudden appearance making him jump. She crouched down to try and match his eye level, and he had the impression she had already said his name a few times already. He had a distantly uncomfrtable awareness that several people were staring at him.

"Mr. Murdock, are you all right?"

"Um…just makin' sure this floor isn't going anywhere," he managed, his voice trailing off as he squeezed his eyes shut. _Not good, this is not good._

"Would you like to lie down? We should probably check your blood pressure at least, okay?" _I should probably be saying something right now_. "Mr. Murdock?"

"Yeah, okay," he heard himself reply at last. _Can I switch back to the blue ones now? _Half the ward was watching as she helped him to his feet. It was quiet, and it was awful. He didn't want to see their faces, all of them probably wearing that He's-Screwed expression.

It was _awful_.

* * *

Next chapter: Desperate Murdock, angry nurse, angry Face. On the horizon: Intervention!


	3. Hospital Con

A/N: Finally, another chapter. Things are moving a little more slowly than I planned, but they are moving. R/R, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own The A-Team, etc.

* * *

Face was almost disappointed at how easy it was to get into the Indy VA. Granted, he was wearing brown contacts, glasses, and carried some entirely convincing identification that indicated he was "Jared Lawson, Psych Advocate," but he was a federal fugitive, for crying out loud. He'd half expected to see his wanted poster on the wall somewhere, alongside Hannibal and Bosco's, maybe. This was barely a challenge. Clever fake ID, total confidence in the B.S. he was currently peddling, the right smile at the right time to the right ridiculously attractive nurse…_too easy. _He'd have Murdock out of here in no time flat. They'd be on their way to a brand new hopefully-lucrative mission in twenty minutes or less.

Then again, there did seem to be a little bit of a tense vibe amongst the staff. Well maybe not tense, more like…despondent, like working conditions weren't so great at present-if their expressions and body language were any indication. Another nurse summoned the one that had just pointed Murdock out to him before regretfully departing to fulfill her nursely duties. _Ah well, c'est la vie._

Face crossed the room to where Murdock was obviously feigning sleep in an arm chair. It was a common tactic, especially when the pilot wasn't sure of his visitors. Face sat down on the unused footstool in front of the chair. "Hey Sleeping Beauty, it's me. Wakey, wakey." he said conspiratorially, when Murdock didn't drop the rouse right away. "And can I just say that Nurse Adams is _unbelievably _hot?" He jabbed Murdock lightly in one shoulder. "You been holdin' out on me, or what?"

Murdock still didn't so much as twitch. Face snorted. "Come on, man. You want me to dump this water on your head or what?" Said cup of water sat on the end table next to a chair. Face reached for it, but the pilot didn't try to stop him. His grin turned slightly bewildered. Maybe the man was really napping. "Murdock?" Face lifted one of the pilot's arms and let it fall to the arm of the chair again.

No reaction. Then Face noticed the rough, red marks around Murdock's wrist, a tell-tale sign of the repeated, resisted use of restraints. Any traces of a smile quickly bled away from his expression, and his heart rate kicked up a notch. "What the hell? Murdock? Hey, Murdock." He pushed the pilot's other sleeve up and found a similar aggravation on the other wrist. Why the hell was he being restrained enough to leave marks like that? "Murdock!" He gave the man's shoulders a gentle shake.

Face glanced over his shoulder, wondering if his voice had gotten too loud. The nurses seemed to be absorbed in something else at the moment, fortunately. When he turned back, he finally found himself meeting a pair of familiar but dazed looking eyes. Murdock flinched and recoiled slightly, out-of-it and not so familiar with Face's currently-brown eyes. It took him a moment to realize who he was looking at.

"Face-why are your eyes like that?"

"Murdock, Christ, what is going on? You were sleeping like the dead! And what is this?" he held the pilot's arm up again, indicating the marks on the wrist.

Murdock looked shaky, like he was trying to decide whether or not he was really awake. He reached for the cup of water with a clumsy motion that knocked it onto the floor and completely gave up trying to recover it. Pressing the heel of one hand into the bridge of his nose, he answered. "They switched my meds. It's bad. I mean, it's really, really bad, Face…"

Face steepled his fingers against his mouth for a moment, more than a little alarmed at the condition his friend was in. "Okay…okay. Here's what we're going to do. I'm gonna go over-"

Murdock's head jerked up. "You're gonna _go_?" He had latched down so hard on the word that Face flinched, startled at the man's frantic reaction.

"Just over to the nurse's station, Murdock. Now I want you to stay here and try and relax, all right? I promise I am going to take care of this. You hear me?"

"I hear you," Murdock answered, sounding like a robot. A robot that didn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"Here, hold this for me," Face spoke as he got to his feet, handing Murdock his keys as a means of mental security. "Can't go anywhere without those, right?" The pilot slowly grasped the keys, staring wide-eyed as the conman turned to walk away. Face waited until his back faced his friend to take a slow, deep breath. He needed to get some answers from the staff and call Hannibal. Murdock _needed _to get out of here, badly, and his condition made his extraction a hell of a lot more complicated than expected.

"Excuse me," Face addressed the second nurse, as the one he'd made eyes at earlier was nowhere to be seen. "Do you have a moment to answer a few questions?"

The nurse looked up from her computer and regarded him critically, sizing him up. Her badge read "Shayla Jefferson."

"And you are…?"

Face flashed the counterfeit ID. "Jared Lawson. I represent Mr. Murdock on behalf of the VA's Psych Advocates program."

The nurse seemed to pause, glancing out in the direction Face knew Murdock was sitting, and then back again. "You…represent him?" She pulled her hands away from the keyboard, finally committing to the conversation. "In what capacity? Did you sign in on the visitor log?" _Still skeptical._

"Psych advocates are commissioned by request as a means of ensuring the rights and dignity of those we represent."

Face could almost hear Hannibal ribbing him about the line of B.S. he'd just managed to sling out to this latest mark…_Wow, that's a lot of syllables for you, Face, maybe you should sit down and recover your strength..._Meanwhile, the nurse was biting her bottom lip. She wanted to tell him something, that much was obvious. He decided to push the envelope a bit more.

"And yes, I signed in with Nurse Adams. I'm here because we received an anonymous tip recently that Murdock's treatment has become…shall we say, substandard." He watched the color rise to her cheeks and hoped he hadn't taken the con a step too far.

"His treatment _hasn't_ been-" she started off hotly, then quieted herself, eyes darting as though she was worried someone might hear. "It hasn't been substandard so much as railroaded," the nurse emphasized.

"Railroaded?" Face prompted. _Almost there…_

She looked around once more, and finally spilled it. "A man came here earlier this week. Government type, real piece of work. He gave us a form signed by some big-wig psychiatrist saying that we had to change Mr. Murdock's treatment regiment. New drugs, new procedures…and they're all wrong." She looked genuinely distressed and pissed off about the situation, and her eyes had wandered toward Murdock again. Her expression was slowly deep-freezing Face's insides.

"I didn't make that anonymous call, Mr. Lawson," she went on, "but I should have. The way it's changed him, in so little amount of time-it's awful. He doesn't talk to the other residents anymore, barely talks to the staff. We caught him trying to pull the security shields off the windows two or three times until we were instructed to start restraining him at night. Yesterday he actually tried it in the middle of the day, in his _sleep_. He woke up in the middle of it and promptly had a ten-minute panic attack. He gave an orderly a black eye when they tried to restrain him at bedtime that night."

Face swallowed, his mind rebelling against mental images of Murdock's plight. All this had been happening without any of the team knowing it. The three of them had been making plans for the next mission…playing cards, and ordering pizza, and watching T.V. while Murdock slowly went completely insane in this place.

"If I'd known about your organization," the nurse was saying, "I would have called. I've talked to everybody from my immediate supervisor to the director of the hospital, and no one seems to be able to overturn this order. Murdock's psychiatrist has been wrangling legal roadblocks for days now. If there's anything you can do…"

"Can I take a look at the order?" Face shook himself back into form, happy that his voice still sounded vaguely authoritative.

"I'm not sure that's-"

"Please, Nurse Jefferson. I'm not asking you to present me with his records, just the order this G man gave to you. Did you happen to get his name? Seriously, this could go a long way toward giving Mr. Murdock the help he needs." His pleading was almost too genuine. When a con got too close to the truth, it could dissolve in a heartbeat.

She sighed. "I could lose my job for this," she told him in a serious tone, even as she dipped into a filing cabinet drawer. "His name was Ericks. But it was strange because Mr. Murdock seemed to know him." Her fingers deftly trolled across a row of folders.

"What?" This threw Face a bit.

"Yeah, and Murdock called the man something else. A nickname or first name maybe? Can't remember…Letich? Something like that. Here's the file."

Face took it on autopilot, still hanging on her words. "You don't mean Lynch, do you?"

"Lynch, yes, that's it. Do you know who he is?"

_Damn. _

"Mr. Lawson?"

_ Double damn._

* * *

_Coming soon...Investigation, deception, extraction. You'll see Hannibal and B.A. pretty soon, too!_


	4. Q&A

A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far. Also, I apologize for any inaccuracies involving the medical or military or technological, etc realm...there's a lot one has to know to make it perfectly accurate, so I hope any fudge factors aren't so glaring that the fiction can't be enjoyed. Feel free to comment on such if you like!

Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team, etc.

* * *

"I know _of_ him," Face heard himself reply. "Langley big shot." He didn't know where he was getting this stuff, but he was glad the con seemed to come naturally as his brain kicked into overdrive. If a Lynch was involved in all this, it made things about seventeen and a half times more complicated. Face had assumed the supposed government man was someone attached to an MP search operation or maybe somebody in Charissa's line of work. Lynch almost certainly meant Company, and Company meant the government was getting too close. Or that some unsuspected angle had arisen, one generally not in their favor.

He suddenly remembered the document he was holding and began to troll through it, squinting at some of the more unintelligible script. After a long moment, he felt his face growing hot, and he firmly set the file down on the counter while indicating Murdock with a sharp gesture of one hand. "He's…he's bipolar for Christ's sake, you can't just switch-has anyone even _read_ his damn medical history?"

"Of course we know his history," Nurse Jefferson spoke. "That's what I tried to tell them-" Face cut her off, royally pissed with no one else to yell at.

"He needs a, a mood stabilizer, not a…sedative antidepressant." Face jabbed a finger at the file, old recollections of Murdock at his worst lows knocking on memory's back door. "He's gonna be pulling G's on the goddamn manic-depressive merry-go-round! Jesus Christ, is this Brant guy even a real doctor?" Face snapped angrily. He turned to look back at Murdock, who had apparently succumbed to drowsiness again, slouched in his chair. The nurse took Face's outburst in stride, well-practiced in dealing with a wide range of emotions in her line of work.

"Mr. Lawson, believe me, I know. You have to know that I've done everything but walk off my job in protest of all of this, and the only reason I haven't done _that_ is because honestly, I'm afraid to leave him. I can see you genuinely care about your client. If there's any way we can pool our resources to help him…"

"I have to make a call," Face mumbled, still staring at Murdock. Then he seemed to realize the state he was in and gave his head a slight shake. He turned back to the nurse. "Look, I'm sorry for the attitude. I know you've been trying to help him, and I appreciate it more than I can say. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Please let me know if there's anything else I can do, Mr. Lawson." She took the file Face slid back to her and watched him turn and walk toward the foyer, putting a phone to his ear.

"B.A., you wanna grab that?" Hannibal requested around the screwdriver he currently had clenched in his teeth, shouting to be heard above some slightly overloud classic rock. The technically-former colonel was balanced on a ladder, installing yet another security measure in their rented home. He held a level to the wall and made a light mark with a pencil, waiting for a response.

"Got it, Boss!" B.A. shouted back, somehow able to discern the drowned-out screwdriverese. He trotted over to the phone and grabbed it on the third ring, switching on the trace blocker. "Joe's pizza."

"Bosco, it's Face. I need to talk to Hannibal."

"Faceman, where you at? Figured you and the fool'd be back here by now."

"I'm still at the VA. Um…things are royally fucked up… I don't think I can get Murdock out of here alone." B.A. could almost see Face scrubbing a hand through his hair. His tone definitely didn't inspire confidence.

"All right, man, hang on." _Act now, question later. _He was already moving into the next room, flipping the stereo off as he passed it by. "Boss, it's Face. He says we've got trouble."

Hannibal frowned, pulling the screwdriver out of his teeth. "I hope it doesn't involve a woman," he commented dryly, trading B.A. the level for the phone. "Talk to me, Lieutenant."

"Hannibal, we've got a problem," Face got right to the point. "I think the CIA's been here at the ward—they dropped off a nice little order signed by a government quack and what has to be the latest Lynch detailing major changes in Murdock's treatment. They've got him seriously messed up, Boss, he's on the wrong meds and they've been restraining him. If you could just see him right now…I mean, he's like…" Face trailed off, at a loss for words.

"All right, all right," Hannibal cut in, his senses coming to full alert at the anxiety in Face's voice. "Can you get him out of there?"

"I don't think so, Hannibal, I mean, seriously, he's barely functional. Even if I came up with something, I had to do enough recon that one of the nurses probably knows my face too well now. And I'm going to have to get some supplies-we can't take him out of here with nothing. It'd send him off the deep end. He's already halfway there."

Hannibal took a deep breath. By "supplies," he knew Face meant meds, and pilfering drugs from a hospital was a risky business. The gears were already turning, trying to formulate a plan. Before he could reply, Face spoke up again.

"There's something else, Boss. If I understand what I read correctly, these Company guys have been following up on the treatment…they could call or stop in anytime. Why would somebody suddenly take interest in Murdock's treatment after all this time? Why would they sign off on things that they know are going to make him less lucid, less able to supposedly help track us down?" The conman's eyes scanned the parking lot even as he said this, a dose of healthy paranoia running up his spine. "It kind of smells like-"

"-a trap," Hannibal agreed, coming to the same conclusion. "Ok, kid, here's what we're going to do. B.A. and I need to do a little recon of our own before we proceed. I want you to hang tight there until I call you back. If Lynch or any associated undesirables make an appearance, signal us with the usual methods and get out of there."

"…But what about Murdock? He's barely able to stay conscious right now, how am I gonna...you're not suggesting I leave him here-Hannibal, _no_ way-"

"Face, you can't help Murdock if you're locked up in a federal pen."

"Boss, I _promised_ him-"

"Listen to me, Lieutenant. They come, you run. Do you understand?"

"Hannibal-"

"Do you _understand?_" There was a long, heavy pause.

"Yeah, I understand," he answered at last, bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Good. Now, I need any names you saw on those orders."

"The man who's gotta be a Lynch went by Daniel Ericks, with a 'k,'" he rattled off flatly. "The shrink's name was Brant. Michael Brant. Those were the only names I could see."

"Ok. Keep your phone close at hand. I'll be in touch." Hannibal tapped the hang up button and closed his eyes a moment to collect his thoughts, feeling slightly ill. He knew Face resented his instructions, knew that much like himself, the kid would rather pull off his own fingernails than leave one of their own in a bad situation, but the alternative was worse. They wouldn't put Murdock in jail. In the VA, the pilot was at least vaguely accessible. A maximum security prison was a whole different animal, especially when you made it in for round two. And if Face got nabbed, it would just send Murdock back to square one, possibly even get him transferred somewhere out of their current reach.

"Boss?" B.A. addressed him uncertainly from the doorway, gearing him back to the matter at hand.

"Test the new firewall one more time and get online," Hannibal directed. "We need to do a little virtual B&E."

* * *

_Coming soon...the team works toward getting Murdock the hell out of Dodge. Can they stay below Lynch's radar long enough to successfully break Murdock out? Keep reading! :)_


	5. Tug of War

I don't own the A-Team (or Tale Spin), etc...

A/N: It's short, but it's been so long that I really wanted to get something up. I promise the next update will come much sooner! Thank you all for the favorite-ing and nice reviews! And thanks most of all for reading!

* * *

Face leaned back against one wall of the foyer for a long moment after hanging up the phone, mentally grumbling at Hannibal's instructions. The reckless part of him was urging him to drag Murdock right out of there that instant, throw him in the car, and drive away. Surely he could outrun whatever followed them, right? He had a feeling Murdock would be more than comfortable with the idea of an immediate exit. Face shut his eyes, picturing the scenario. Unfortunately, the risks outweighed the benefits, especially where his friend was concerned. He had to get a hold of Murdock's charts and then get his meds…and that wasn't going to be quick or easy. Not to mention the feds were potentially at their heels.

Pushing off the wall, Face gazed through the glass toward Murdock's chair. What he saw made him bolt back through the double doors.

"Hey!" he called across the middle distance. Murdock was having some kind of tug of war match with an orderly. The pilot was ten miles beyond frantic.

"Give…them…_BACK!"_

"Let go of the keys, Murdock!" the orderly countered.

"Hey!" Face called again. "What the hell is going on here?"

"You ain't getting' these keys!" Murdock continued, seemingly unaware of Face's presence.

"Murdock-"

"Let _go,_ damnit!" the orderly persisted, and pulled, hard. He suddenly began to gain ground, and Murdock winced, his arm shaking with the effort of trying to hold onto what Face realized were his car keys.

"No-_oww…!_" The pilot sounded like a man on the verge of a breaking point. Face snaked a hand out and grabbed the orderly's wrist.

"Let _go,_" he demanded. "They're _my_ keys, and I willingly gave them to him."

"Then maybe you're the one that needs to be wearing a straight jacket! Just what the hell are you thinking?" the orderly snapped. "He's been marked as a flight risk and you're giving him your keys? I don't care who you are, mister, you can't do that."

"You can't have them!" Murdock exclaimed. Face's fingers found the right pressure points, and _squeezed,_ and with a surprised yelp, the orderly finally let go of the keys. Face's grip loosened only a fraction as Murdock, unprepared for the abrupt victory, stumbled backwards. He regained his footing after a few steps and clutched the keys, staring.

Seeing that the pilot was relatively unharmed, Face turned and leveled a considerable amount of quiet intensity on the orderly. "You trying to tear his hand off, or what? Seriously, it's like you're begging me to write you up."

"Write me up? Are you out of your god damn mind?" The orderly snatched his hand away, rubbing his wrist.

"I'm his psych advocate. I don't suppose you're aware of the various infractions I could bring charges against you for at the moment?" Face flashed the fake badge and watched the color drain from the man's face with a guilty amount of satisfaction. "He doesn't even know what my car _looks _like! I gave him the damn keys as an assurance that I wasn't going to leave him alone any time soon!"

"Um, sir, let me just explain-"

"And I can't _imagine_ why he'd be anxious about being alone in this place, what with all the pleasant company," Face went on, relentless.

"It's just…I mean, can you imagine if, if he got to your car and tried to drive off? If he actually tried to _drive_?"

"Are we having the same conversation? What's he gonna do, try every car in the lot until one matches?" He was glad the key ring didn't have a lock remote on it, or that argument would have really fallen through the floor. "I'd like to speak with him alone please," Face continued, his tone leaving no room for debate. The orderly stared at him dumbly. "As in _now_. And I _will _be discussing this situation with your supervisor. "

"Right. Of-of course." The orderly all but fled the commons, nearly colliding with a nurse…one they hadn't met yet. Face wondered if the shifts were changing over now.

"Hicks, what the…?" She watched him hurry off before regarding Face and Murdock. "Is everything all right?" Her eyes lingered on Murdock, who had taken a seat on the couch, still clutching the keys.

"We're fine, just a little misunderstanding," Face tried to assure her, but she was looking to Murdock for some kind of answer.

"Just a little misunderstanding," the pilot echoed, staring down at the keys. This miraculously seemed to satisfy the nurse, who returned to her previous duties. Face sat down heavily on the couch next to Murdock and scrubbed his face with both hands. Murdock stared at the keys for a moment longer before leaning back and closing his eyes. Face regarded the pilot over his shoulder.

"The boss is working on a plan," he explained quietly. "We're just waiting on his call."

"Mm-hm," was Murdock's only reply. He didn't open his eyes. Face watched him for a moment longer before reaching out to switch on the TV. The conman flipped channels a few times before landing on re-runs of _Tale Spin._ He snuck another glance at Murdock and snorted. The pilot had predictably cracked one eye open to watch the animated sea plane doing loops on the screen. The break in tension, however small, was an almost delirious relief.

"A sea plane don't handle like that," Murdock muttered critically, but no smile answered Face's consequential grin. Still, it was something.

Shrugging out of his suit jacket, Face tucked his phone in the pocket of his vest and leaned back against the couch, hands laced behind his head. Beside him, Murdock watched the TV screen, his face devoid of all expression aside from obvious weariness. With a sigh, Face hoped the phone would ring soon so he could _act_. Murdock's desperate scrabble for the keys was not a memory that would easily leave his mind anytime soon.

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Drop a review if you have the chance! Coming soon...Calls, plans, action, and some really bad timing...stay tuned...


	6. Plan of Action

Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team, etc.

A/N: Another chapter, whee! Thanks to all of you who are sticking with the story so far!

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Face hadn't dozed off…that'd just be plain stupid, and his nerves wouldn't have allowed it even if he wanted to. He had, however, slid into a kind of funk where he was alternating between staring numbly at the TV, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun dropped lower, and side-glancing at a mostly-asleep Murdock on the couch beside him. It had been almost two hours since talking to Hannibal on the phone. Said phone was now in Face's hand, and he was half a moment away from dialing the colonel just to check in when the damn thing went off. Face jumped at the unexpected sound, and Murdock jolted awake, dropping the car keys in the process.

"How's that plan coming, Boss?" Face spoke quietly, returning the keys to a groggy Murdock.

"It's quick and dirty, but we don't have a choice." Hannibal's voice was grim.

"Well, that's reassuring," Face responded, eyes scanning the commons for eaves droppers. "I take it the situation is more…imminent than we realized?"

"You could say that, yes. The crowd Mr. Lynch is running with…they're not your typical Company men. Which means they may be operating outside the law."

"Is that really a headliner?"

"Let's just say the lawlessness is a little more severe than normal," Hannibal specified.

"Fantastic."

"Oh it gets worse. The 'new' Lynch-he's actually the _old_ Lynch." There were a couple moments of silence while Face absorbed what he'd just been told. Lynch…as in Burress…was still _alive_?

"Wait, what? But…your intel said…" Face trailed off, looking around warily once again. Murdock had turned an uncertain gaze on him now, reading the alarm in the conman's response.

"I know what it said, Lieutenant, and it came from a very reliable source, but I've just seen sat imagery of him that's date stamped after his supposed termination date. We did significant digging to confirm it; it's _the_ Lynch."

Face pressed his fingertips into the bridge of his nose. It would've been great if Murdock had let him in on _that_ little detail. Unfortunately, the pilot wasn't really up to extensive conversation at the moment.

"But…what does that mean?" he questioned. "What does he want out of all this?"

"What do you _think_ he wants?" Hannibal replied. "He's gotta be brain-blitzing Murdock either for information or to lure us in, because I certainly don't buy this bullshit about him suddenly being upgraded to a major flight risk. He wants us captured, or worse. Now more than ever, after what happened at the docks. That or his higher-ups are using him to serve a similar purpose."

"It's difficult, being so popular," Face commented dryly.

"Yes, well, we're not sticking around to give anyone autographs. B.A. and I are going to be there in about and ninety minutes. We're going to pull an inspection maneuver. In the meantime, you need to make yourself scarce."

"Hannibal-"

"I am not going to argue with you about this again, Face. I'm not saying you have to drive to the next county, but you need to distance yourself and lie low until we're closer. There's indication that Lynch and a couple of his flunkies are checking in with the ward tonight, but we're not sure about the timetable."

"Are you serious?" Face's eyes darted toward the main entrance, paranoia returning. "Colonel, if the situation is really this dire, if they could really show up at any moment, shouldn't I just-"

"Listen to me. If you are there when they arrive, all hell is going to break loose, and we are going to _lose_ Murdock. Do you understand? They'll transfer him to God knows where, and you'll be in federal prison. And that is the _best_ case scenario, let me remind you. It's going to be risky enough with all four of us, especially with Murdock in such a state."

Face shifted his gaze back to the pilot, who looked as though he wanted to either demand information about what was going on or cover his ears to block it all out.

"_Face."_ Hannibal snapped.

"All right! All right, understood." Face sighed heavily. "This is not my favorite plan, Hannibal."

"It's not mine either, kid, but it's the only one I've got. I'll ring you when we're close."

"What about the supplies?"

"We'll deal with that when we get there. It's part of the plan."

"All right. I'll let you know if Lynch shows."

"Good. See you soon."

Hannibal hung up and Face did the same before reaching for his jacket.

"Murdock…I think I'm gonna need those keys," he said slowly.

"No!" the pilot immediately leaned away from him. Face cringed at the volume of his response. Murdock was visibly trying to reel in a rising panic. "You said you weren't going to leave me here, Face!"

"Murdock, I'm _not_ leaving, I'm-"

"Then what the hell do you need the keys for?"

Face held his hands up in a calming gesture, and turned his face away from the direction of the nurse's station, tilting his head to emphasize discretion. "They have to think I'm not here, or things might not go as _planned_," he stressed the word to indicate it was part of the colonel's grand design. "We might be having _company_ soon, if you know what I mean."

"And you're going to _leave_ me?"

"Murdock. I am _not_ leaving you behind, do you hear me? I have to…to hide, because if Lynch gets here and we don't have backup, I don't know if I can get us out. If I can't get us out, we're going to be in a lot of trouble, and we're going to be separated."

Murdock rubbed a shaking hand over his eyes and Face almost felt shaky too, watching the pilot struggle so hard to pull himself together.

"Okay," Murdock said finally. "Ok. Go 'head and hide." He gave Face the keys, flinching when they left his hand. Face stared at him, more and more frustrated with the whole shitty situation.

"Fuck it," the conman declared finally. He worked the ignition key off the ring. "Take this. But you've gotta keep it out of sight. Especially if that damn orderly comes back around." He put the single key back in the pilot's hand. "I can't really leave without that key, ok? Don't forget that."

"Okay…" the pilot answered, like a man who'd just been last-minute pardoned from an execution. Face started to get up and then turned back, dropping to the couch one more time. "Murdock, if they give you evening meds before I come back you _have_ to take them."

The dread was creeping back in to the pilot's expression.

"Murdock, you _have_ to. I know-I know it makes you feel awful. I know. But you can't cold turkey that stuff, and you've gotta try to stick to the routine tonight or you'll draw too much attention." Now he looked flat-out horrified. Face trudged on. "I _promise_ when we get you out of here we're going to get you back on track, buddy, just…just trust me, all right?"

"All right," Murdock echoed.

"Ninety minutes," Face told him quietly, glancing at the nurse's station again. "That's the colonel's ETA." He got to his feet again. "I'll be back. Remember, you gotta hide that key."

Reluctantly, he left the pilot sitting there, not trusting his resolve enough to look back. Now he just had to find somewhere to hide out that didn't involve driving or security cameras, or a hundred other potentially sticky factors.

"Piece of cake," the conman muttered darkly.

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A/N: More to come soon...thanks for reading!


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